


Safe

by Fyre



Series: A Little Kindness [12]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Slow Show - mia_ugly
Genre: Alternative Perspective, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22833211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: The days were passing like a pleasant dream.A holiday away from the real world where, for a little while at least, they could simply be.
Relationships: Anthony J. Crowley/Avery Fell (Slow Show)
Series: A Little Kindness [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1628107
Comments: 39
Kudos: 183
Collections: Slow Show Metaverse





	Safe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mia_ugly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia_ugly/gifts).



The days were passing like a pleasant dream.

A holiday away from the real world where, for a little while at least, they could simply be.

What struck Avery the most was how… comfortable it was. As if it was perfectly natural for them to nestle together and murmur nonsense to one another in the night. As if kissing themselves senseless and working themselves to a frenetic sweat and laughing over the mess was something anyone – they – he could enjoy.

Two weeks, he had told himself. They would talk and plan and instead, he was… was this what it felt like to be content? Happy, even? To feel light and free and safe?

True, yes, when Crowley suggested they venture out and about, it was as if his heart was a rock in his chest all over again. Close the door, turn the key. Habit, instinct, self-preservation now. And every time, Crowley smiled as if Avery wasn’t… as if he hadn’t pelted him with a proverbial stone and told him no. No, no, no, that was not for Out There. Only in here.

But in here, inside these four walls, there was pasta and wine and warmth and sex. Lips and hands and limbs tangling and hot breath on his skin.

It was _safe_. They were safe. No prying eyes. No derision or rocks or cruel critics waiting for either of them to come to ruin.

He didn’t want it to end. Lord, if they could have – if _he_ could have – stepped away from it all, had this as a respite from the battering waves of the media and constantly watching over his shoulder, waiting, waiting, waiting, for some unfortunate encounter from his past to rear its ugly head, to bare toxic fangs and rip everything to pieces.

It was _nice_. It was _good_.

And one afternoon, after they had spent the morning puttering about by the lake, skimming stones and laughing like schoolboys, they simply sat together on the couch. Well… sat was a very loose term for the liquid sprawl of Crowley’s body as he draped himself halfway along the couch, playing with his phone while Avery indulged in a novel.

Gradually, whether deliberately or unconsciously, Crowley listed ever closer until the back of his head was propped on Avery’s thigh, the vermillion spill of his hair a stark contrast to Avery’s soft fawn trousers. It shimmered in the warm afternoon sunlight and for a moment, Avery wondered if it was a more subtle means of flirtation.

The soft thump of Crowley’s phone slipping from his fingers and landing on the floor said otherwise.

Avery couldn’t help glancing down, his heart apparently trying to escape from his chest, as he realised that Crowley – a man who danced on a knife-edge of paranoia and anxiety, running himself ragged to keep himself sane and stable – had drifted to sleep using Avery’s thigh as a pillow.

Safe, Avery thought, the emotions welling up, too big and smothering to be contained. He felt _safe_. Safe enough to make himself utterly vulnerable. Safe enough to simply… rest.

It ought not to have brought tears to his eyes, but it did and – everso tentatively – he touched the spilled ends of Crowley’s hair.

_My lovely darling…_

In sleep, lines that furrowed deep around Crowley’s brow and mouth were smoothed away to nothing, a tension that was always there eased. He looked so… so very peaceful. Lovely. And silly soft wretched great tears were threatening to spill from Avery’s eyes.

He raised his gaze to the ceiling, blinking hard. If Crowley woke and saw him bawling like an idiot, he would get himself all worked up. He didn’t need that, not when he was finally relaxing and actually able to get some rest.

But Crowley didn’t wake. He barely even stirred, only moving to grumble in his sleep and shift his position, rubbing his cheek on Avery’s thigh like a lazy cat.

All thought of concentrating on his book went out the window. Instead – gently and cautiously for fear of disturbing Crowley – Avery stroked his fingers through Crowley’s hair. Crowley made a happy sound in his sleep, squirming closer and Lord, Avery’s heart felt as if it might burst there and then.

He tried not to think of waking to see that sleepy half-smile on Crowley’s face, the softness around his eyes, the gentle little snore he sometimes made. Tried not to imagine waking to it every day, kissing the curve of his mouth, watching those honey-warm eyes peering drowsily at him.

This place was… it was perfect, but it was an impossible reality.

They couldn’t– he couldn’t have more than this.

If they did, if they tried…

He forced the thoughts away and settled for stroking his fingers through Crowley’s hair instead. In the here and now. Enjoy it while it lasts. Two weeks and a little piece of Heaven and an entirely too divine creature curled up on him as if he deserved such trust and affection.

The sun had moved across the wall, slanting through the windows, when Crowley stirred, squinting around, still hazy with sleep.

“M’sorry… m’all over you…” He sounded warm and muzzy and Avery adored it – adored _him_.

“It’s quite all right, dear,” he said with a quiet laugh, as if he didn’t want to kiss him all over, beg him to stay like this, and ask for all the impossible things he knew he could never have. “You’re lovely like this. Sleep as long as you like.”

And wonder of wonders, Crowley _did_. As if it was fine and normal and they _could_ just do this as long as they liked.

 _Oh my love_ …

Six days. Six day until the world would come creeping back in.

Avery curled his fingers into Anthony’s hair, heavy and warm as silk, and let himself bask. Just for a little while. A perfect little moment. To remember. To cherish. To run through his fingers when the world came creeping back in.

It would be all right. It would. It had to be.


End file.
